<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>N06: Radical Red by auntie_social</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434429">N06: Radical Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntie_social/pseuds/auntie_social'>auntie_social</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fun with Gender, GNC Brienne and baby GNC Jaime, Genderqueer Character, Gift Giving, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, let's be honest Brienne is the real gift here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:42:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntie_social/pseuds/auntie_social</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a good gift, Brienne reminds herself. She’s mostly confident he’ll love it. Mostly. She picked it out specifically to represent all the things about their year together as a couple that she couldn’t find words for.</p><p>But she's still nervous she's read things wrong and that this will make it weird.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>N06: Radical Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirazi/gifts">kirazi</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy assorted holidays, everyone!</p><p>Kirazi requested reciprocal relationship dynamics and genderqueer characters (I wasn't able to fit in "battle couple," much to my chagrin, but I think you'll agree it wouldn't have fit in well with this story). If those aren't your thing-- especially the latter-- that's cool, and I'll gently nudge you toward the back button and hand you some mulled cider on your way out.</p><p>For those of you sticking around, please enjoy this festive fluff!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s one present left under the tree, but it is so small Brienne is worried Jaime might not see it.</p><p>Then again, she may be just as worried that he <em>will</em> see it.</p><p>She takes a long sip of hot chocolate to quiet her nerves, watching him struggle into the sweater he just unwrapped. He’d gaped a little when he read <em>from Catelyn</em> on the box-- it hurt Brienne’s heart a little how touched he was to receive a personal gift from someone not related to him for once, but mostly she was just pleased that Catelyn made the gesture and that Jaime appreciates it. That sweater is physical evidence of how much both of them have changed in the last few months.</p><p>It’s the end of a long year. Their first as a couple-- though their friends would give a number at least four times that-- and his first away from his family’s claws. While it hasn’t always been an easy road, Brienne counts it as a privilege to have been with him through it-- to be a part of it, no less, growing with him and building their relationship from its tentative and unsure beginnings to the solid foundation it’s become. It’s been wonderful to see him make his own choices and revel in his newfound freedom from expectations and guilt.</p><p>Usually that revelry is metaphorical, but now that they’re celebrating their first Christmas together it’s become much more literal. Two days after Thanksgiving he bought out half the decoration aisle just because he could, with no more paid professional decorators or strict and <em>tasteful </em>color schemes to contain him, and since then he hasn’t met a holiday tradition he didn’t want to try. The flat is now a festive disaster area of tinsel and pine and lights that hurts Brienne’s eyes a bit, but it makes Jaime smile every time he comes home so as far as she’s concerned it’s 100% worth it. She did overrule the headpiece with lit candles he found online as too dangerous, and the Elf on a Shelf as too creepy, but the rest of the month has been a blur of activity. They’ve gone ice skating, where Jaime insisted she hold his hand the entire time just in case he fell; to a historical holiday fair, where Jaime drank too much hot buttered rum, bought Brienne a dashing top hat, and was taught to polka by a giggling teenager; and two hours up into the mountains, where Jaime led them on a three-mile hike to find and cut down the perfect tree.</p><p>A tree now sheltering one last gift.</p><p>It’s a good gift, Brienne reminds herself. She’s mostly confident he’ll love it. Mostly. She picked it out specifically to represent all the things about their year that she couldn’t find words for. Her pride at all the things that had scared him but that he’d done anyway. Her staunch commitment to standing by his side no matter what. Her love for everything about him, for how much he’s grown and explored.</p><p>She’s so proud of the work he’s done to figure out who he is independent of his family and his past. He’s used the year to take himself apart and reassemble an identity of his own. Though painful at times, he pushed through, identifying the few pieces from his previous life that he wanted to keep-- Tyrion, mostly, but he also examined the sense of loyalty that had bound him to unworthy people and habits for so long and then turned it toward more deserving causes. Toward his tireless work at the nonprofit he started, toward providing a positive adult influence for his nephews and niece. Toward Brienne as well, a thought that still makes her blush and hide a smile behind her mug of hot chocolate.</p><p>And he just keeps working at it. Doggedly traveling his own path no matter how winding or frightening it might be.</p><p>There’s one surprising path that she’s not even sure he knows he’s considering. Well, it might feel like a surprise to Jaime but to Brienne it makes perfect sense. She can practically see him standing at the trailhead wondering if it’s safe to try-- she’s had friends travel similar roads over the years, and while she can’t quite put words to it she’s been getting a similar sense from him lately. Hells, she’s walked her own version of that road, and Jaime probably isn’t even consciously aware of all the support he’d offered her. She still goes to his Suit Guy for work clothes, because Suit Guy has never once suggested she might be in the wrong shop, or tried to push her toward a more feminine cut. The point is, Jaime is amazing, and it’s a joy to see him finding himself, and Brienne wants nothing in the world more than to be allowed to stay with him through the process, and to help where she can.</p><p>And that’s where this one last gift comes in.</p><p>Jaime finally pulls his head through the top of the sweater. His eyes are bright and his hair is all mussed but of course in an effortlessly attractive way. He’s been putting off getting it cut for ages and it’s far longer than hers now, long enough to obscure his face. Brienne feels her smile grow and gives up on hiding it.</p><p>He’s the very picture of holiday cheer: sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the tree and surrounded by shreds of colorful paper, so very unlike the tightly crumpled balls Brienne has packed neatly into a pre-prepared garbage bag (let alone the orderly folded stack her father must even now be painstakingly setting aside back home.) The dark burgundy of the new sweater brings out the gold in his curls as he ties the green ribbon from the sweater’s box around his head to hold the hair off his face. </p><p>Before her apprehension can get the better of her she climbs to her feet to refill their mugs, taking a moment to straighten the bow Jaime has tied at a jaunty angle in his makeshift headband. He grins up at her and she silently holds her hand out for his mug, the one in the vaguely-horrifying shape of Santa’s head. “Thank you sweetling,” he sings up at her, wrapping an arm around the back of her knee and leaning his head on her thigh. “You’re the best. Have I ever told you that? You’re the best and I love you.”</p><p>“So less whiskey in this one then,” she grumbles good naturedly, patting his head as he hands her the mug.</p><p>While she’s busy in the kitchen, warming up the cocoa and adding in an only-slightly indulgent amount of alcohol, she can hear him rustling around in his nest of wrapping paper, probably trying to locate the gifts that he’s managed to bury over the course of the morning. The two of them have been at it for a while, taking their time and enjoying the process. They even made and ate a full breakfast before starting into the presents, a tradition Brienne insisted upon and which Jaime has complained about actually a bit less than Brienne expected. In her family they always tried to have unrushed Christmas mornings-- taking turns, one gift at a time, to draw out the festivities and allow time to express excitement and gratitude. And this year she was not about to let her absurd boyfriend eat all the candy in his stocking and then rush through his gifts in a peppermint-induced haze. </p><p>But his complaints aren’t the kind that means he’s actually upset or uncomfortable, she knows that for sure. She has seen him unhappy-- enough for a lifetime, frankly-- and this is as far from unhappy as he could possibly be. Moreover, he did think her family traditions sounded lovely when she described them two days ago, and it’s not her fault that his obsession with trying every possible tradition has resulted in his unwitting agreement to an impatient morning. </p><p>Honestly, Brienne has rather enjoyed his overdramatic whining, begging her to eat faster or at least let him open a present while she finished her bacon. It reminds her of when she was young, offering her father the very same well-reasoned arguments for why time was clearly of the essence and how she might actually die if she wasn’t able to open her presents that very minute.</p><p>The milk has reached the proper temperature, so Brienne scoops chocolate into their mugs and gives them a quick stir. She’s about to head back to the tree when she’s struck with inspiration-- there’s a can of whipped cream in the fridge for the pie they baked together (with at least apparent success) to go with Christmas dinner. Trying for as much stealth as possible, she adds a dollop of cream to Santa’s skull, then turns to put the can away. But then she hears a delighted yelp from the living room and the distinct sound of a small electric motor, followed by a fit of giggles as the dragon-shaped drone her father had given him (“He’s probably never gotten a dumb useless toy in his life,” Selwyn had said over his daughter’s mild objections, “so just let me do this”) rises from the destruction surrounding the tree. She glances at the cute little plop of whipped cream in his mug, then back at where Jaime is gleefully steering the drone toward where Pod is asleep in his brand new doggy bed, and uncaps the can again to add the absolute maximum possible without risking her spilling the entire thing on the way back to the tree. At the last moment she grabs the red sugar sprinkles from their disastrous attempt at gingerbread cookies and adds a few shakes to the top of his drink. It looks absolutely ridiculous.</p><p>“Cocoa refill incoming,” she calls, just as the drone touches down on Pod’s back and he wakes up with a startled yip before whirling to snap at it playfully, his tail thumping against his bed.</p><p>Jaime’s eyes light up when he sees the abomination of a drink she’s carrying and Brienne is nearly knocked backwards by gratitude that she gets to see that expression-- that she gets to be its source. She’d thought her heart was as warmed toward him as possible and yet here it is adding at least another degree or two.</p><p>He sips contentedly as she settles herself on the ground again, and everything feels so warm and comfortable that she nearly leaps out of her own skin when he glances under the tree and calls, “One more!” A bit of a scramble is followed by his triumphant cry of, “And it’s for me!”</p><p>Be cool, Brienne. It’s time.</p><p>With a calm she absolutely does not feel Brienne settles herself down in her previous spot. “Oh?” Her voice comes out about an octave higher than she expected.</p><p>“Don’t give me that,” he scolds her, “it’s from you so you knew it was here. Were you trying to hide my presents from me? Is this yet another bizarre Tarth tradition to drag present-opening out as long as humanly possible?”</p><p>“Something like that.” She sets down her own mug and busies herself winding up the ribbons she’d salvaged from her own gifts, avoiding his eyes.</p><p>It’s a small present, a little rectangular box smaller than his palm, and it manages to stymie Jaime’s destructive unwrapping techniques for a long and nerve-wracking moment before the matte black box inside is revealed. Jaime eyes it quizzically for a moment. “Givenchy?” He begins to pry open the top flap and Brienne feels sweat break out on her forehead. “Very fancy, but what could you have gotten me that would fit--”</p><p>He’s tipped the black and silver cylinder out into his palm. The shape is unmistakable, but he stares at it blankly, his face gone slack.</p><p>Brienne nearly suffocates under the urge to immediately take it back-- make it a joke, give a long-winded explanation, literally anything to break the tension of the moment as it stretches longer and longer. But if she’s right-- if she hasn’t just thrown a wrench of awkwardness into the gears of their relationship-- he might need a minute to process, not to mention that any attempt to minimize would do just about the opposite of what she’s trying to accomplish, but--</p><p>“You got me… lipstick?” he says, his voice full of what Brienne hopes is wonder but could still possibly be confusion. Or worse, horror. But then Jaime finally looks up at her and his eyes are so wide she can see the tree’s lights reflected in them. Wide, with just a hint of moisture at the corners.</p><p>Before Brienne can let out the breath she’s been holding, Jaime has launched himself at her, burrowing into her lap and burying his face in her neck. The bow he’d tied earlier is right in her face but both of her hands are too busy holding him tight to bat it out of the way. He lets out something between a sigh and a laugh and a sob and she pulls him closer. She can feel that he’s still got the lipstick tube clutched in one fist behind her back.</p><p>He pulls back just a little but Brienne’s Traditional Stormlands Gift Explanation Speech is cut off as his lips crash into her own. It’s a short kiss, but fierce, and it leaves Brienne a little stunned as he ends it to press his forehead against hers.</p><p>“You’re not--” He bites back his first attempted sentence and tries again. “How did you know?”</p><p>She snorts a little and rearranges him into a slightly less awkward position, settled sideways in her lap with her arm around his waist. “I know you pretty well, Jaime Lannister. And last week at the mall when I saw you looking into Sephora like Pod looks at leftover pizza... well, I thought I could maybe help you skip the angst and go directly to the fun part.”</p><p>“And you’re not mad that maybe I’m--? Or, I don’t know, creeped out?”</p><p>He asks so shyly that she almost wants to smile, but she knows better. “No. I’m not.”</p><p>“Have I told you lately that you’re the best?”</p><p>“A few times.”</p><p>“What about that I love you?”</p><p>“That too.” She brings her hand to his cheek, dipping her head to look at him. “And I love you. I love everything you are. No matter what.” She kisses him soundly, then begins to urge him off her lap. “Now go on, give it a try.”</p><p>He almost resists for a moment, but as soon as <em>try</em> passes her lips he practically leaps up and sprints to the hall bathroom.</p><p>Once he’s safely occupied, Brienne’s relief rushes out of her and she begins to babble in his general direction. “I have no idea if that’s even a good shade or a good brand or anything-- I’m hopeless with that stuff and the woman at Sephora was really pretty and the lights were really bright and I got intimidated. But I won’t be hurt if you don’t like it and I can always go back and try again--”</p><p>“Brienne?” The syllables come out sideways, the B getting a little lost in that way Brienne knows from many a group bathroom trip at the pub with Sansa means he’s trying to talk without letting his lips touch. “It’s fine, just give me a minute.”</p><p>“Right, of course.” She should stop like he asked but she’s just so relieved-- and honestly so excited for him-- that the words just keep coming. “I just… well, I felt bad that I didn’t have any makeup lying around for you to try out, you know, in private. In your own time. Bran told me that’s how they started out, borrowing their sister’s stuff to experiment with, see how it worked and what they liked. I mean, I know you don’t mind that I don’t, you know, <em>do </em>cosmetics, but it would have made things so much easier for you--”</p><p>“Brienne.” </p><p>She swallows the rest of the speech as best she can because he pronounced the B that time and she knows what that means. The moment feels too big and she scrambles to her feet, rubbing her palms on her sweatpants and putting all her energy into giving him the space he needs.</p><p>He steps hesitantly out of the bathroom. There’s a tension in his body, but it’s different from the strain of the last year. His shoulders are up, his hands are clenched at his sides, and his gaze skitters past hers, unable to hold it. But there’s an energy beneath it-- something shivery and excited. It’s very nearly infectious and Brienne can feel an answering flutter in her own stomach.</p><p>But then she focuses on his beautifully red lips and the world narrows to that single point and suddenly their apartment is far too hot. The very corner of that incredible crimson mouth tugs just so slightly upward-- it’s shy and tentative, but Brienne can practically feel the joy radiating from him and she’s in front of him in two long strides, cupping his face and tipping it up toward her for a closer look.</p><p>“So you like it?”</p><p>It’s mesmerizing watching his freshly painted lips move. She can’t take her eyes off them, let alone excavate the words needed to answer.</p><p>He bites his lip. Oh gods. Brienne thinks she might spontaneously combust if he keeps this up. A glance up at his eyes, however, reveals that smug gleam she’s so used to from him. Of course he knows how incredible he looks. And now he’s just messing with her.</p><p>She swallows the lump in her throat and finally manages to find some words. “You know, the scary lady said it’s smudge proof. I think I’d like to test that. How does that sound?”</p><p>“Beautiful,” he sighs.</p><p>She kisses him slowly at first, experimentally. When she’d bought the lipstick-- and when she wasn’t worrying that she was misreading things or overreaching or being weird in general-- she’d wondered if it would make kissing him different. It tastes a bit unusual of course, but not bad per se, and it’s a little slicker. But it’s still so fundamentally Jaime that she thinks she might cry.</p><p>An hour or so later they’ve thoroughly debunked the smudge-proof claim. Afterwards, as she holds Jaime close she can feel his lazy smile against her collarbone. This one might not have stood the test, but Brienne gazes at the red smears across her skin and thinks she is quite looking forward to many more of these experiments in the future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-Merry everything, kirazi! It's an honor to have been randomly given your name-- A Great Fountain is one of my most-reread fics in the world (an engineering story of my two favorite goobers headed with a Louise Gluck quote? Be still my heart!). And I do love a good GNC JB story, so it's about time I tried my hand at writing one!</p><p>-I went ten rounds with myself before deciding to save myself the trouble of inventing or stealing a more canon-y winter celebration and go with Christmas</p><p>-Title is an actual shade of actual Givenchy lipstick. I have no knowledge of it myself but it did show up on several of the "best red lipsticks of 2020" articles I read as research!</p><p>-And special extra thanks to jellyb34n for holding my hand as I whittled down the semi-epic too-complicated Thing this story tried to become into the self-contained one-shot I meant for it to be.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>